


there's a fire going out

by wolfiery (asswords)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Best Friends, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Marijuana, Misunderstandings, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, they're all popular and stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-03 14:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1748072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asswords/pseuds/wolfiery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles should make a list of what he's blabbed and what he <i>shouldn't</i>. Number one being how pathetically in love he is with his best friend. </p>
<p>He looks over to see Derek with a calculating expression and then feels the Camaro turning around suddenly.</p>
<p>"Whoa, are you trying to kill me?! Is this payback for that time I switched the bindings in your Physics book to your History book? Because that was just a friendly form of entertainment," He clutches the armrest with a death grip and his body jerks forward when Derek makes an abrupt stop at the streetlight and Stiles will deny that he lets out a girlish squawk.</p>
<p>"That was <i>you</i>?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's a fire going out

**Author's Note:**

> What the fuck.
> 
> No, really, it's like I tried to fit every little high school thing into one, not even that long, fic - I am so sorry.
> 
> Also the marijuana stuff was actually not planned, I just kind of love it too much not to put it in a high school au.
> 
> This is the most sappy, ridiculously fluffy thing I've ever written, oh my god. I hope it's not too OOC or anything. Welp.
> 
> Also, I really should have tried to involve more characters and stuff, but I didn't, because I suck and had Sterek tunnel vision.
> 
> Yeah, again, sorry. 
> 
> *headdesks*

They get by - it’s high school after all. Stiles isn’t looking for a medal of Most Successful in Social Hierarchy. But somewhere along the way, he ended up in a group that very much consisted of beautiful people and beautiful people are not typically at the bottom of the food chain in high school, so, he kind of isn’t either.

Freshmen sometimes see him walking with Lydia and Danny and their eyes boggle.

Stiles thinks it’s  _hilarious_.

Of everyone, Lydia probably wins in popularity, even Jackson, since her house is actually the one supplying red solo cups with Skinny Girl and Absolut and every other alcohol or marijuana substance to exist.

Her parents are never actually home and it’s  _sweet_. When Stiles was a sophomore, he really didn’t think his dorky, gaming self would ever become friends with these kind of people. Scott’s a forever deal, that’s for sure, but he still didn’t think people like Isaac and Erica and  _Derek_  would be hanging out with him on a daily basis. He’s unintentionally cool and it’s nice.

He gets by.

*~*

Stiles is clutching to his Pre-Calc book, leaning against the lockers while he waits for Derek to move as fast as a slug at getting his books.

No, really, they agreed to it.

“Wait, no! Don’t speed up! We had a deal here, dude,” Stiles says, watching as Derek’s slow-mo arm movements start to move a little faster than they bet on.

Derek rolls his eyes, green and gorgeous as they are to Stiles, “We’re going to be late. Like, more than usual late.”

The problem with this is Derek has a maturity way beyond his years that Stiles always manages to give in to. They’re opposites that way - Stiles tried to hold onto his childish tendencies after his mom died and Derek aged like a wise old mentor after his dad died.

Stiles scoffs anyways though, “Just say we had a brief Dead Parent meeting - they all pity us anyways.”

Derek stops completely at taking his math book out, stiffens like he wishes Stiles was wrong - but he’s not, it’s been true for the last three years when some students are sad and awkward around either of them - teachers too.

Stiles feels a pang of regret - his mouth always runs about things like that when it shouldn’t. To be fair though, Derek really is the only one he can say shit like that to. Even Scott gets all puppy-dog on him and quiet when he mentions anything regarding his mom.

He watches Derek sigh and put the math book into his locker before looking over at him, with a considering glance and a raised eyebrow, “Wanna skip the rest of the day?”

He grins brightly and shoves his unnecessary books into Derek’s locker before slamming it shut, “I thought you’d never ask.”

*~*

It's not like they skip all the time. Contrary to universal belief that Derek's leather jacket spells out  _delinquent_ , they've managed good enough attendance and grades to give themselves the occasional day off.

Not that Stiles' dad thinks they need it, but whenever he starts to lecture him, Stiles casually brings up his dad's teenage days and his file and immediately he shuts up about it. It's nice having the upper hand in some things with his dad - the only thing that really mattered was keeping his grades up. Admittedly, that's usually achieved with generous study groups and copious amounts of coffee for all-nighters.

They don't ever really have a specific place to visit - sometimes they'll go to a few places more than once. Like that diner in the countryside an hour away or the wooden gazebo in the metroparks. Mostly it's about the road.

Stiles even has a playlist for Derek's car every time they do this.

Right now, Derek's tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the riff of guitar in classic rock. His dad was a huge fan of all things Pink Floyd, but Stiles thinks that the music also fits the strong, silent type thing Derek's got going on even if the guy doesn't admit it.

"Oh! What about a science museum? Like the IMAX theater or something? I could go for that. I think they got a fish thing going on, coral reefs and oceans and the wild ol' waters," He lets out a grin when Derek rolls his eyes while looking ahead at the road. He's just suggesting things to fill the comfortable but  _boring_  silence going on. In the end, they always end up choosing something they both agree on.

Or Stiles pretends to agree so Derek can be happy. Stiles, recently out as bisexual, stupidly hoped that coming out would make Derek think about him differently. But in fact, it only made the guy upset that Stiles never trusted him enough to tell him, and that was another fiasco he was forced to avert because of his running mouth.

Stiles should make a list of what he's blabbed and what he  _shouldn't_. Number one being how pathetically in love he is with his best friend. He looks over to see Derek with a calculating expression and then feels the Camaro turning around suddenly.

"Whoa, are you trying to kill me?! Is this payback for that time I switched the bindings in your Physics book to your History book? Because that was just a friendly form of entertainment," He clutches the armrest with a death grip and his body jerks forward when Derek makes an abrupt stop at the streetlight and Stiles will deny that he lets out a girlish squawk.

"That was  _you_?"

Stiles laughs nervously and smiles as innocently as possible, which, yeah, won't work on Derek but it's worth a shot. He raises his arms in a shrug, "Oops."

Derek glares at him before looking back at the light on the road, "I'm not trying to  _kill_  you, you dramatic fucker. I was turning around cause the highway's that way? You know, for the  _science museum_?"

"Oh," He replies meekly, and then feels an embarrassed blush rise on his cheeks.

"You're ridiculous," Derek says looking up and rolling his eyes like the heavens can answer why he chooses to spend his time with someone like him. It's a look that makes his insides all proud and grin. Derek probably sees and purposefully lurches the car forward when the light turns green.

Asshole.

"You know, I'm starting to worry you might have an eye condition with how much you roll them around at me," Stiles says bitterly, a weak attempt to retaliate.

Derek pointedly turns the volume up and is obviously resisting rolling his eyes again.

Stiles laughs.

*~*

"This is  _so_  cool. This was the best idea I ever had," Stiles nods to himself in confirmation and cranes his neck to see the entire expanse of the IMAX theater, unaware of holding up the people behind them in line for their chance at good seats.

"That's nice," Derek says sarcastically and wraps his hand around Stiles' wrist. Stiles tries not to flutter away at the touch, really, he's been practicing. "Now, why don't we appreciate the view from an actual  _seat_?" Derek tugs and pulls him away towards the stairs as they make their way to the top row for the middle.

At least Derek knows how to pick a  _good_  seat.

The coral reef movie is essentially gorgeous in nature but is boring Stiles to death with the monotone of the narrator. He's listening to the facts somehow because who wouldn't want to learn the habitats of Cnidaria in their medusa stage? In other words, jellyfish.

He only wishes the narrator was British - or awesome and important like Meryl Streep.

Stiles  _thought_  all his attention was on the ridiculousness that was the droning sound of the speaker's voice but then Derek puts his hand on Stiles arm and he immediately feels the goosebumps in that same spot.

"Hey, I'm getting a soda, do you need anything?" Derek puts his mouth near his ear and he tries not to shudder at the warmth of his breath.

He shakes his head in return with a pleading grimace, "Maybe an escape from this narrator?"

Derek ducks his head down to laugh quietly. The colors of the ocean and bright red coral reefs and jellyfish are just barely lighting up his face and Stiles is breathless.

It's not like he woke up one morning and decided ' _Derek is good. I like Derek now._ ' all caveman and decisive. Stiles has had crushes before, admittedly on two other people he's currently friends with such as Danny and Lydia - but that was nothing. Stiles just wanted to worship the ground they walked on constantly because they were high up on his list of Perfect People.

Derek was not perfect. Derek was grumpy and angry and too quiet and responsible and probably didn't know the definition of fun until the second semester of sophomore year when they became friends. Stiles thought Derek was attractive from the beginning but never saw it as anything more until the stupid asshole made it easier for Stiles to confide in someone and vice versa. Derek has seen Stiles have a panic attack more than once and still not run away.

So, yeah, Stiles thinks the guy is stupidly the most beautiful person he's ever known, inside and out and he doesn't even care if it makes him sound like a thirteen year old girl cause it's not like anyone's gonna know.

"Are you really that bored by it? We  _could_  go," Derek offers, still whispering but no longer directly into Stiles' ear,  _thank god._ But Stiles covets the fact that he knows things about Derek that other people don't - like how Derek is probably  _loving_  this movie for all its nerdy facts about fish.

He smiles and waves his hand, "Nah, I'm just messing around. The stuff on screen is just too pretty to pass up."

Derek looks relieved and something inside Stiles feels warm and satisfied even after Derek leaves to go get drinks.

*~*

The next day at school, it's a lonely lunch with just him, Scott, and Erica while everyone else is either at Yearbook Club or Key Club meetings.

Stiles wishes he was in  _any_  club to get him out of Erica's knowing glances.

She's like a Catwoman waiting to pounce on her prey and it's making him incredibly nervous. God bless Scott at least and his complete focus on his chicken nuggets.

"So, Stiles," Erica says sweetly and  _oh god here we go_. "I don't think I saw you in Pre-Calc yesterday. Or Derek for that matter."

He can do this, he can play it totally cool - he's the sheriff's son after all.

"Yeah, we decided to skip," Stiles shrugs casually. "Dead Parent Meeting."

He wants to punch himself in the face. It's one thing to use that excuse on teachers and other students who pity them. And another to try and use it on the wily females in his life.

So, of course Erica sees right through it.

"Really? Cause Derek said you guys went to the IMAX downtown. Kinda like a date, wouldn't you say?" Stiles is probably leaving it up to his imagination when he pictures claws and nine lives and narrow eyes because seriously,  _Catwoman_. He resists the urge to hiss at her.

"It wasn't a date. My mom loved the ocean." It's not exactly a lie, but even Stiles hates himself for using the Dead Mom Card. It's just that his pathetic crush on Derek is delicate and all it takes is for Erica to have a couple shots of tequila at one of Lydia’s parties and she could spill that secret to  _anyone_. His secret pining is actually pretty precious to him.

"Right, and so did my seizures," Erica retorts.

Whatever. Stiles doesn't have a clever reply to counteract Erica's own cunning pity card so he glares at her with everything he has. Which isn't much. "Are you done now?"

Erica grins and nods innocently.

Scott, around the chicken nuggets stuffed in his mouth, "Dude, just tell 'im. Loves you back."

Stiles splutters at his best friend, "No he - Scott, he so does  _not_ -"

Erica rolls her eyes, "Oh for fuck’s sake, he let you drive his Camaro all the way to the beach last summer.  _And_  he's always texting you about the newest zombie movie or 360 games."

"Scott texts me about Halo forums!" Stiles protests and then looks at Scott with raised eyebrows. "Are  _you_  in love with me? No, didn't think so."

" _Oh_ , so you're  _in love_  with Derek, huh?" Erica questions, openly smug and content.

Stiles stands up, glares harder and steals one of Scott's chicken nuggets before hightailing out of the cafeteria.

Fucking hell, why couldn't they just leave him  _alone_?

*~*

Stiles has to physically drag himself to Lydia's party Saturday night because his dad already told him to ' _Have fun at Scott's and be home by 10 tomorrow_.'

Scott pretty much calls ahead every weekend to ask the Sheriff if Stiles can spend the night. So, he may have forgotten to tell Scott not to call this time. He's not exactly in a party mood with the whole past week being a reminder of how truly unrequited his feelings are.

He about 99.9% sure that his life movie role in the future was already fulfilled by Julia Roberts in My Best Friend's Wedding. That kind of pathetic, except at least Derek doesn't have a girlfriend or fiancé. Yet.

He parks his car on the side street and walks over to Lydia's house. They had to learn a lot of discretion so the cops wouldn't bust the parties. They scattered cars all over the neighborhood and held the party in the basement. Lydia asked Stiles for his help a long time ago with his police department knowledge on how to make this the best but least suspicious party possible. Lydia now appreciates his intelligence for that very reason. And he'd be ultimately flattered and grateful if he still thought she was a goddess. She is, just not one Stiles wants to have sex with anymore.

They've always been careful though when it comes to parties and at least one person in their weird friendship group stays sober to watch over things every weekend. There's even a rule list taped to the wall for when somebody walks in and takes off their shoes.

Lydia is the only one allowed to wear shoes around the house.

He can feel the beat of the music pulsing downstairs when he walks through the front door and pulls his shoes off. There's a total of ten people lounged in the living room, but Stiles knows there's about fifty more people in the basement. Looking briefly at the people on the couch, he grins and walks over.

"Hey, man," Stiles claps his hand with Devon, some sophomore dealer that was rising up through the ranks. "Got anything for me?"

"Derek got an eighth already," Devon grins, easy, laid back, and fun like all drug dealers should be. "Told me to tell you to meet him upstairs? I don't know where but -"

Stiles laughs, "Nah, it's cool dude, I know where. See ya later. Tell Lydia I arrived if you can."

He ventures up the stairs and makes way for the guest bedroom. It's still early in the night, so thankfully no drunk teenagers are having sex in there yet. Derek found this spot for them about a year ago in Lydia's house, where the attic ladder pulls from the ceiling.

Stiles goes up the ladder slowly before pulling the ladder back up behind him.

He hears the sound of coughing and grins at successfully freaking Derek out.

"Shit, maybe announce yourself? Or at least say you're not the fucking  _cops_?" Derek says to him sarcastically as he untucks his bowl from where he hid it under his hoodie.

"You know I can't resist when you scare the shit out of me at least three times a week," Stiles retorts and then moves towards Derek, who's sitting cross-legged right by the attic window. He crosses his legs in front of Derek, who rolls his eyes fondly in protest.

“I don’t  _mean_  to. You’re just incredibly deaf and -”

“ _You’re_  just incredibly quiet and sneaky, dude,” Stiles teases, hitting Derek’s knee in front of him. “Anyways, how much do I owe you? Devon told me you got an eighth.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek waves his hand, and ignores Stiles squawks of protest by getting the bag of bud out and beginning to repack the bowl he had with him.

“Dude, no way, you gotta let me give you something,” He doesn’t even realize the innuendo until Derek raises an eyebrow at him. “Uh, not like - I just mean, it’s like super expensive and I’ve been saving up, so. I mean, I -”

“Stiles, the only thing I want you to do for me, is promise to try and smoke all of this with me tonight in this attic,” Derek almost looks nervous as he asks but Stiles thinks it’s hard to tell with the way he’s ducking his head down to look at the bud he’s breaking up. “Just - avoid Erica at all costs.”

Stiles thinks about lunch the other day and just picturing Erica tossing back tequila and shots and blabbering on about Stiles' stupid crush on Derek to everyone here. It's not even a question.

"Avoid Catwoman? No problem," Stiles shrugs easily and sees the small smile of relief on Derek's face. "Now, are you gonna pack that or not? I was under the impression you wanted to smoke."

"So bossy," Derek mutter under his breath, but begins putting the bud in his bowl.

He looks out the window when he hears the lighter flicking and dig his feet in the carpet, already relaxed before even having a hit. It's nice.

*~*

It's  _really_  nice.

He's laughing at himself and feels lighter than he has in a while. Usually at Lydia's parties, he'll be handed some beer and get into a weird combination of a brave and sad mood. This feels right. It's nice not knowing anything that's going on two levels below them.

Plus Derek's clutching his stomach, trying to breathe through his laughter.

"You - you," and then Derek breaks again, honest to god  _giggling_. "That's the  _third time_."

Stiles buries his face in his hands but he's grinning anyways. "Every  _fucking_  time, oh my god, you need to buy a better lighter so I don't keep trying to light it on the  _wrong_  side! This is your fault!"

"Sure, sure, just like that time when you put a cigarette in your mouth on the wrong end. That was my fault too," Derek points out smugly, eyes a little hazy and red but Stiles still thinks he's completely adorable.

"I don't even like cigarettes," Stiles pouts because his mean best friend keeps picking at him. "It was a honest mistake."

Derek pauses, looking like he's trying to contemplate what Stiles said and then gives up, shaking his head adorably, "Nope. Doesn't make sense."

"Your face doesn't make sense," Stiles mumbles because it's true. "Hand me the bowl."

Derek rolls his eyes all fondly and Stiles tries not to melt when the glass pipe is placed in his hands along with a lighter.

He lights the center of the bowl and sucks in, using his thumb against the carb. After, he exhales a long stream of smoke and feels the weed hit him with a full body shiver and can't help but let out a raspy, " _Nice_."

Derek shakes his head and snorts, "You always do that."

"Do what?"

"Compliment the hit you take," Derek says swaying back and forth with an amused look on his face.

"Uh," Stiles scoffs and flutter his eyelashes, "Because I love marijuana."

"I love marijuana," Derek mocks, high pitched and pulling a face.

Stiles sticks his tongue out and leaves it there, light and happy and eager to annoy Derek.

"Put your tongue back in your mouth, lunatic," Derek admonishes but there's no heat behind the words.

Stiles, with his tongue still hanging out, garbles around the words, "Make me." It really sounds like 'may' but he can't really think about the N'Sync reference when he's suddenly pale and feeling like he's gonna be sick. He puts his tongue back in his mouth immediately and looks down at the weed they have left with wide eyes. His hands go to it in a hurry, looking for a distraction as he pulls it apart and begins to pack the bowl so it's full.

He risks a glance up and sees Derek with raised eyebrows but also a hint of a blush, but he can't be sure really, since it's dim in the attic with a single lamp turned on.

Derek takes the bowl from his hands gently and Stiles blushes as he tries not to embarrass himself further by doing something stupid like try to hold Derek's hand.

Derek lifts the bowl to his mouth and Stiles watches, transfixed and feeling a little creepy, but his body is vibrating and he's too high to look away. Derek pulls the bowl away before he lights it and seems to be thinking as he looks Stiles straight in the eye.

Stiles swallows, his mouth a little dry and waits for Derek to say  _anything_  so he doesn't feel like crawling into a hole as his stupid crush and best friend stares at him intensely.

"Are you," Derek pauses, looking confused but then incredibly delighted. The look makes Stiles a little scared, if he's honest. "Are you  _flirting_  with me?"

"Oh my god," Stiles groans audibly, burying his face in his hands again. "Just. Take a hit, okay? Maybe it'll clear up your senses."

"I'm hurt, Stiles," Derek pouts and for a ridiculous moment, Stiles thinks he might be flirting  _back_  but it's too insane to believe. "I'm definitely revoking the offer to shotgun now."

And wow, okay, maybe he  _is_  flirting back? Stiles feels like his body is on fire and he has no idea if it's because the idea of shotgunning has always turned him on or if it's because he's actually  _dying_  of humiliation.

Stiles can't let Derek win though.  _He_ is the master of sharp wit and sarcasm and putting people on the spot. No way will he let his title be stolen by Derek Hale, even if he's in love with the guy.

"Really, Derek?" Stiles says in mock sadness. "Not even if I  _begged_?" His voice drops lower and becomes heated and  _fuck_ , if the way Derek's eyes get more intense and scan his eyes and lips -  _holy shit_  - they really  _are_  flirting. And Stiles can't - he really doesn't want to feel like all of this is a joke but it  _is_.

Derek's looking at him thoughtfully now and Stiles wants to sink back because he feels like prey, just  _waiting_  for someone to make a move.

Derek finally smirks and lifts the bowl to his lips and takes a hit, inhaling deeply and - and  _holding_ it in his mouth, beckoning Stiles closer with his hand.

Stiles figures he'll save the freak out for later and  _not_  be an idiot for once.

He leans forward on his knees, not wanting to knock over anything between them. His body visibly shakes because  _yes_ , he's nervous, but Derek is moving faster than him, coiling a hand on the back of Stiles' neck and pulling him closer. Their lips are almost touching when Stiles parts his lips just as Derek exhales the smoke.

Stiles keeps his eyes open, looking at the passing smoke and inhales at the same time. He holds it in his lungs for a moment and then tilts head upwards, baring his neck and blowing out the smoke slowly so it’s not right in Derek’s face.

He's about to lean back to sit down when Derek places a gentle kiss at his neck. His heart feels like it's beating out of his chest when Derek pulls away slowly with a small smile on his face. He can't get the memory of how soft Derek's lips were out of his head and he doesn't think he'll be able to for the rest of his life.

Stiles does sit down then, not sure if he could continue sitting on his knees without falling over. He's awed, and can't think of anything to say and is well aware that his eyes are wide and his mouth is still hanging open.

Derek smirks again but Stiles isn't oblivious to the shy blush on the tips of his ears this time. "What?" Derek asks, eyebrows raised. "No compliment for that hit? Finally speechless?"

Something snaps inside of Stiles bringing him back to reality and he rolls his eyes, "Oh, fuck off."

Derek smiles, light and easy and passes him the bowl, saying, "Your turn."

Things aren't even awkward and Stiles doesn't know what time it is and he still doesn't care about what's going on in the basement and it's still really nice.

*~*

"Scott," Stiles says earnestly that Monday at school, not even focusing on the class time they're given for homework. "Are you being obtuse on purpose?"

He runs a hand over his face in frustration while Scott gives him ridiculous puppy eyes that he  _knows_  he won't be able to resist.

"I'm not being obtuse! I'm actually  _acute_ ," Scott retorts, smiling all proud of himself. Scott's been studying so Stiles can't even try to tell him it's the wrong use of the word because it  _isn't_.

So, he looks down at his chemistry worksheet and mumbles under his breath, "You're a cute, alright." It's nowhere near a good comeback, but he's honestly been off his game since Lydia's party and keeps daydreaming about shotgunning with  _Derek_.

"Careful, Derek might get jealous," Scott teases, and oh no no, Stiles would rather agree with Scott about the Star Wars prequel being better than the originals than go to  _this_  conversation. (Even though the originals are so much obviously superior and  _classic_  and  _so what_  if the newer versions have better special effects?!)

"Now you  _are_  being obtuse. Derek and I are just friends, Scotty, seriously," Stiles insists with the rare, capital 's', Serious voice he only uses in dire conversations. He tries not to think back to Saturday, when Derek's lips were against his throat or how they just hung out alone for  _hours_. He tries not to let the pang of hurt affect him too much for the rest of the day with the sad fact that they  _are_  just friends.

Scott also recognizes the Serious voice and frowns when he looks at Stiles. "But you wish you weren't?"

He sighs, actually dying to reveal everything he thinks is great about Derek to  _someone_  and what happened at Lydia's party but he settles for the truth in the short version.

"Yeah," he sighs, "But Derek is straight and he's my best friend," he quickly widens his eyes, "Besides you of course!"

Scott snorts, "Smooth." He shrugs, and Stiles knows that is his best friend's personal prequel to saying something intelligent and perceptive. He braces himself and hears Scott dump verbal wisdom on him.

"I don't know, dude. It just seems like Derek's always let you get closer than anyone else. Even Erica sometimes."

Stiles knows he should say something back to that but Scott is hardly ever the one to give him advice or insights, so he always cherishes when he does. It's not true but Stiles goes to his worksheet and lets himself believe for the rest of the period while he daydreams about Derek's mouth leaving  _marks_  on his neck.

But lunch proves differently, when Derek keeps staring at him as he eats a bag of Doritos and the dude isn't even  _trying_  to act normal.

Finally, Stiles can't take it anymore. "Do I have something on my face?" he asks, because it's the only thing he can come up with for Derek staring at him, pointedly ignoring his heartbeat and the words Scott said to him earlier replaying in his head.

"Yeah, of course, Doritos," Derek replies automatically. Stiles brings the back of his sleeve to his mouth and wipes at it ignoring the look of disgust Lydia gives him.

"Gone?" He questions and briefly tries to use his phone's reflection to check.

"Wasn't anything there," Derek says, his mouth beginning to upturn to a smile and his eyes filled with mirth.

"Asshole!" Stiles glares, and takes Derek's chocolate milk and pours it over his half-finished burger before Derek can start laughing. Derek makes a frustrated noise and glares at him for the rest of lunch.

"Boys are idiots," Lydia grumbles as Stiles leans back in his seat, smug as he pops another Dorito in his mouth and licks his lips.

*~*

The thing is, Stiles isn't typically insecure. Even through his crushes, he's hooked up before and he knows he's not bad looking, especially now as a senior with his hair grown out and his fashion choices more plain than bizarre. But he still can't help but feel like he's the same spastic boy he was sophomore year and Derek is still that captain of lacrosse that used to be annoyed by him in the beginning of their acquaintance.

Derek's still feels like he's out of his league even if they are best friends and grown as equals, learning to be less stubborn and more mature.

Kind of. Stiles wouldn't ever label himself mature unless it was for a job interview.

He walks outside to his Jeep slowly, his backpack slung over one shoulder and his keys in the other hand. His keys fall to the ground when he jumps at the feeling of two taps on his shoulder. He gasps and spins around to see Derek openly grinning at him for scaring the shit out of him,  _as always_.

Stiles glares as he picks up his keys and then looks to the sky, "Really? Really? It's only Monday."

Derek huffs quietly, unsuccessful at hiding his laughter and then says, still grinning, "What are you doing today?"

"Going home to play Hot Pursuit, procrastinating homework until 11. You know me," Stiles shrugs casually, his heart no longer stuttering out of his chest. Well, not as much - just the usual basis of what his heart does when Derek talks to him and continues to look like a sex god.

"Yeah, and as always, your life is one of excitement," Derek retorts, rolling his eyes. "Too bad. I was hoping you'd buy me food since you  _ruined_  my lunch."

Stiles  _knew_  he wouldn't get over it that fast. The whole niceness and sneaking up on him should have warned him that this was  _not_  a friendly confrontation.

"Ugh," Stiles complains, and then looks back at the sky, "Tell Satan here I'll  _make_  him dinner if he stops terrorizing me."

He looks back to see Derek smiling and already moving to the passenger side of Stiles' jeep and climbing in. It shouldn’t warm Stiles heart that the guy moves around him so comfortably and just seems to  _fit_  in his life, but it does and Stiles, still weak from Saturday, can’t help but be fond instead of pissed off.

Even when Derek, being the smug bastard he is, picks the music on the way back to the one pop station he  _knows_  drives Stiles nuts, he still can’t bring himself to care.

*~*

Their stomachs are full with mac and cheese (because Stiles refused to give Derek his best cooking effort just because he won this round) and they're now slumming it on the couch. Stiles uses his controller and pauses the game even though he was in the middle of kicking Derek's ass.

"I'm exhausted, dude," Stiles says, running a hand through his hair. He can't even summon the energy to press buttons anymore and keeps wandering to the thought of his comforter wrapping around him and sinking into his bed.

Derek's quiet for a moment, opens his mouth like he's going to say something and then slams it shut before he does.

It's not his fault he's bone-dead tired and it's a little weird that he's always more touchy feely when he's sleepy and not stoned. But he's always been that way and when he leans his head on Derek's shoulder, he doesn't even think twice about it.

He hears Derek snort briefly and opens one eye to look at him and almost feels like confessing his love on the spot. Derek's looking at him fondly and moving his arm so it's bracketing Stiles against him, making it more comfortable.

"You can nap," Derek says softly and Stiles is so incredibly tired but he's also starting to wake up because of the swoop in his stomach. "I'll wake you up in an hour."

Stiles closes his eyes again and shifts his whole body around so his head is in Derek's lap and his legs are curled up. He feels a hand in his hair, softly running through and hums aloud contentedly. It feels good and he doesn't think about what any of it means and instead lets himself fall into sleep in minutes feeling wholeheartedly relaxed.

He wakes up to Derek calling out his name and slowly blinks to take in his surroundings. He sits up and pulls away from Derek's lap, aware of the blush on his face when he apologizes, "Sorry for," he waves his arm around, "You know."

"Using me as a human pillow?" Derek asks a small, amused smile on his face, crinkling his eyes  _just_  the way Stiles first acknowledged he was in love with Derek.

"Yeah, that," Stiles ducks his head down and smiles too and knows that he should put more distance between them since he's sitting right next to Derek and their thighs are touching, but he can't move yet, likes the vibration in his fingertips.

"Hey, Stiles?" Derek almost whispers.

"Yeah?" He looks back up and Derek's face is right  _there_ , his stupid gorgeous eyes shining or something stupid like that. Derek's hand is coming up and curling around the back of his neck and he's getting flashbacks of Saturday and he's confused and  _freaking out_  cause it seems like Derek's going to kiss him and oh god, he'll have to say Scott's  _right_  or something.

Stiles inhales sharply and then Derek's whispering again and his heart's hammering in his chest so hard that he almost misses it when Derek says quietly, "Don't freak out."

And then Derek puts his lips against Stiles' own, who feels like something is breaking inside of him but in a happy way because he instantly leans into it. Derek pulls away slowly, so gently and Stiles feels like he just landed from a moment of floating in air. But the landing has made him confused and scared again because now they'll have to  _talk_  about things when he'd much rather hide anywhere.

The truth is Derek scares Stiles more than just a couple times a week but  _all_  the time because he's never trusted anyone so much and valued their opinion and friendship and he doesn't trust himself not to fuck things up.

"I'm freaking out," He admits, looking at Derek and trying to find the inevitable regret he'll get from kissing Stiles.

Derek just looks  _hurt_  and frowns, "Do you not - I thought -" He lets out an audible sigh and looks at the now dark television screen. "Erica made me think, or she hinted, that you felt the same? But if you don't, I mean, it's fine, really, I'm fine with being friends."

Stiles blinks a couple of times, suddenly not sure if he's still asleep or not because he  _swears_  he just heard Derek confess some sort of  _feelings_  for him.

"I thought you were straight!" Stiles exclaims, once he realizes this is, in fact, reality. It's the only thing he can come up with on the spot because he's still trying to reel in the idea that Derek returns his stupid, stupid crush.

Derek rolls his eyes and it's so like him that Stiles wants to kiss him again and again.

"I'm very open-minded, Stiles."

"Yeah, maybe you should have  _told_  me that while I've been in love with you for  _years_!" He bursts, a heavy breath falling out of his chest. He's actually  _angry_  now because this whole time he thought he had zero chance with a guy like Derek.

"Are you," Derek seems conflicted between looking happy and in complete disbelief. "Are you  _mad_  at me?"

"No! Yes!" Stiles yells and then crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks down, "No."

"I love you too, for what it's worth," Derek says, placing a hand over Stiles'.

Stiles jumps off the couch and away from Derek's touch and begins pacing back and forth, occasionally glancing at Derek, sitting on the couch and looking exasperated at his antics. "This is weird. You pulled a total 180 on me."

Derek opens his mouth outraged and indignant, "I did  _not_! I thought it was obvious! Honestly, Stiles, what did you think Saturday was about?"

"We were super high, dude, I wasn't about to hold you filling my fantasy expectations to a sane, rational decision you'd make at any normal time," Stiles retorts, glaring at Derek for bringing up his obscene shotgunning act.

Derek sighs and Stiles is already aware that he's probably fucking this up before it even  _starts_. "Could you just come back here?"

And Stiles almost hits the coffee table before he sits next to Derek but manages to make it in one piece. Derek takes his hand again and this time Stiles lets him, looking down at their intertwined fingers with awe. Derek's rubbing his thumb on the inside of his palm and he feels himself calm down and his bones seem to want to melt into goo.

"You really feel the same?" Stiles barely whispers, looking up at Derek, who gives him a smile that suddenly feels more private and precious than any other time.

"Yeah," Derek says, nodding still with that stupid smile that makes his insides flutter with something that's surprisingly reciprocated. "You done freaking out?"

"Yeah," he exhales, and closes the distance between them, kissing Derek first. He's gentle until he parts his mouth open and Derek's tongue slides against his own. He fists a hand in Derek's shirt, pushing him around and moving them both until Stiles is in his lap again and straddling him.

He pulls in Derek's bottom lip with his teeth, listening to the shaky exhale that comes out of him. Derek puts his hands all along Stiles' back and spine, pulling him in closer until their chests are aligned and Stiles can feel Derek's heart against his own.

Derek is kissing along his neck open-mouthed and  _hot_  and Stiles is so incredibly turned on, his dick straining against his jeans. He feels teeth bite against his pulse point and a shock runs through him as he moans.

"Fuck,  _Derek_ ," Stiles whines, involuntarily throwing his head back in encouragement as Derek sucks a mark into his skin. "You're gonna,  _ah_ , make this embarrassingly fast if you don't stop."

Derek pulls back, his pupils dilated and his lips swollen and pink. "Yeah? You're not even gonna  _beg_?"

Stiles' breath stutters when Derek goes back to the same hickey, makes it rougher and harder and is still trying to not come from the mental image of Derek and  _dirty talk_  and  _teasing_.

"Please," Stiles doesn't even have the ability to hold out, needing Derek's hands and mouth everywhere possible. "Derek, I -"

Derek pulls back then, giving Stiles the chance to breathe but also become more and more frustrated. He tugs at the bottom of Stiles' long sleeved shirt, "Get this off."

Stiles, using the fact that he can feel the line of Derek's hard cock under him to his advantage, shifts as much as possible while he takes his shirt off. "Like that?" he asks coyly once he's shirtless, grinding downwards for some kind of friction. Derek buries his head on Stiles' bare shoulder, his hands clutching blindly somewhere at his back, whimpering out a breathy, " _Fuck_."

It's most definitely the hottest thing Stiles has ever heard in all 17 years of life.

He grinds down again, moaning and instinctively, can't seem to stop until he's mindlessly begging Derek for  _something_ , "Please, please, Derek just - god, just  _touch_  me."

Derek is groaning and flicking at the button on Stiles' jeans and then glaring, "Get these  _off_ ," he growls, like the jeans have personally offended him.

"Fucking bossy, god, yours too.  _And_  your stupid shirt," Stiles breathes, still panting and honestly just as offended at the articles of clothing separating them as Derek is. He hands to get off Derek for a moment to take his jeans off and holds back a whimper at the loss of contact. Instead, he makes quick work of the zipper and pushes them off, along with his boxers, waiting until Derek pulls his own jeans off.

Stiles doesn’t really wait to get back on top of Derek, just gasping and trying to be angry at the same time. “You went  _commando_  when you came over?” He shifts his hips around and then groans at the feel of his bare cock touching the skin of Derek’s.

“I was hopeful, shut up,” Derek mumbles, already mouthing another hickey on Stiles’ collarbone this time, and wrapping a hand around Stiles’ dick with slow, languid strokes.

“Yeah, this is,” Stiles breathes heavily and fucking whines when Derek scrapes his teeth along his shoulders - always sending a sharp thrill to his cock. “Gonna be quick.”

He looks down for a moment, before wrapping his slender fingers around Derek, taking in the sight of him and feeling Derek’s resolve break when he hears the same whimper and a panted, “Me too.”

He jerks Derek off like he does to himself, quick and impatient, chasing after release. Derek tilts his head up with his free hand and kisses him again all tongue and  _caring_  and this is  _Derek_  whose hand is stroking him and he feels the heat coil everywhere in him, before he’s coming all over Derek’s stomach with broken pants of his name against his lips, “ _Derek, Derek_.”

He tugs on Derek’s dick once, twice, and then hears a guttural moan ripped out of Derek like his life depends on it, and he’s coming with quiet, harsh breaths.

Stiles kisses Derek again after it, because he  _can_ , and grins so wide he thinks his face will split open. Their breathing starts to even out and Derek’s hand moves to his back, moving up and down until Stiles feels like he’s come back down to earth in the best way possible.

“Hi,” Derek says softly into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Stiles almost flails a little - because they're both sticky and gross with come on their stomachs but Derek  _still_  manages to be adorable.

"Hi," Stiles replies breathless, smiling and feeling too happy for his own good. "I think you broke me. Death by sex with Derek Hale and then death by  _cute_  Derek Hale. Yeah, you broke me."

Derek flushes and still manages to roll his eyes, "You dramatic fucker."

"You love it," Stiles mumbles, pressing a chaste kiss to Derek's lips happily, content to sit in Derek's lap for the rest of the day. Except they're still gross and sticky and so he pouts, looking down at the mess and then back up at Derek.

"Oh my god,  _fine_ ," Derek says and moves Stiles off his lap. "Just know that I'm not always going to be on cleanup duty in this relationship." He walks over to the kitchen, dampens a couple of paper towels and then comes back to Stiles, who's trying not to preen at that sentence.

"Relationship?" Stiles grins when Derek wipes down his own stomach.

Derek's ears redden as he moves closer to Stiles and cleans his stomach for him with the paper towels. He shrugs, nonchalantly, but now Stiles can see the emotion behind it, "Yeah, I mean, if that's cool with you?"

"Don't be an idiot," Stiles says before tugging on Derek's wrist and kissing him deeply, trying to show him just how much he's willing to be in a relationship with a guy he's been in love with since sophomore year. He pulls away and runs a hand through his hair, "Not to be a damper on the mood, but you should probably put your clothes back on cause this isn't really how I picture my dad finding out about my boyfriend."

Derek blanches, puts his jeans on in record time as he asks, "What time is he supposed to be  _home_?"

"Uh, in like 20 minutes I think?" Stiles says, looking at the clock and beginning to put his own clothes back on.

"What if we were - Stiles, I can't meet your dad like this!" Derek whines, looking distressed and nervous. Stiles stands and zips up his pants while looking at Derek with stars in his eyes.

"Derek, what are you talking about? You've literally been over thousands of times," Stiles rubs circles on Derek's wrist until he calms down.

He does calm down but he's still frowning and worried and Stiles does not like seeing his  _boyfriend_  (oh my god his best friend is now his boyfriend?) not smiling after they've given each other orgasms.

"What if he thinks I'm not good enough for you?" Derek mumbles, pulling Stiles closer to him, his arms around Stiles' waist.

"Oh my god, you loon, I seriously cannot think of anyone more  _perfect_  for me," Stiles insists, unable to believe how much Derek cares about him after months of unrequited but apparently not emotions.

Derek smiles again at that and Stiles thinks  _mission accomplished_ before kissing his cheek. Derek hums.

"Oh god, we're going to be so disgusting aren't we?" Stiles groans, putting his head on Derek's shoulder this time.

He can feel Derek nodding in agreement, "The worst."

"I can't even care," Stiles says, sighing dramatically and forlorn. "So what if we jumped right into it? I know your favorite song is that exceedingly long one by Black Sabbath and that you huff when you know you're wrong, which is like  _always_ , and you - mmph!"

Derek kisses him to shut him up and Stiles forgets why he was ever scared in the first place.


End file.
